


Prisoners of A Stacked Deck

by Polyzawa (ValarasStark)



Category: Persona 5, 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - No Personas (Persona Series), Composite Character(s), Decomposite Character(s), Past Character Death, Queerplatonic Relationships, Vigilante Hatsume Mei, Vigilante Kirishima Eijirou, Vigilante Midoriya Izuku, Vigilante Nejire Hadou, Vigilante Shinsou Hitoshi, Vigilante Tenya Iida, Vigilante Todoroki Shouto, Vigilante Toga Himiko, Vigilante Yaoyorozu Momo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:34:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25357798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValarasStark/pseuds/Polyzawa
Summary: Everyone knows that power is something that comes with responsibility. But no one talks about how it being passed on comes with fear, too - the fear that the path one treads is no longer their own.After all, when a torch is passed, what more can you do than run?
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Prisoners of A Stacked Deck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RogueDruid (Icarius51)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Icarius51/gifts).



Some days, but _especially_ today, the world was too cruel. He hung his head, green curls clinging to his battered and bruised face as the drugs in his system kept spreading the mist in his brain. He felt empty. So _empty_ that it hurt. 

The red light of a camera blinked rhythmically from the ceiling, and he stared at the lens wearily. It wouldn't do him any good, wouldn't be used as evidence of injustice against him, he had been told. Still, justice was _tangible_ , _immovable_ in his mind — he just didn't know why. Justice wasn’t an act for him to carry out; it was _part_ of him. 

And it was _livid._

The quiet click of the steel door to his confinement area opening snapped him from his aimless reverie, and a woman walked in, setting a thick folder and a phone he vaguely recognized as his on the table before seating herself. 

There was no comfort to be found in her words, but Izuku was long past being surprised by that at this point. "Izuku Midor-" 

"Don't call me that." His voice was hoarse. A little color came back to his face, and he mustered the energy to shift himself in his chair, moving his shackled forearms weakly.

"Fine. What would you _prefer_ to be called?" He blinked, voice shaking from surprise at her terse consideration as much as the upsurge of bile in his throat. 

"A-Akira..." He barely concluded before his head swooped once more and his vision flickered, becoming a void of black and speckled white.

Her eyes were harder when he came back to, but it was somehow obvious the feelings involved were distanced from him or anything he had done. "Are you alright now? Do you know what they gave you?"

He shook his head and got a sigh in response. 

"I, unfortunately, don't have much time. I know you must not be feeling well, but I need to get to the bottom of this case before it's not in my hands anymore. Can you work with me?" This time, he nodded; answers were a small price to pay for potentially being vindicated. But was he guilty? How did everything he had done get him here? ... _What had he done?_

The phrase rang in his mind before fading to an insistent, desperate whisper. He felt like his soul itself wanted his attention.. It took everything in him to finally make the words out, and even more to take them to heart, but he grew increasingly more determined to not let the feminine voice go as it spoke. 

_"Kid.. I... I know things look bad. Hell, they are extremely bad. You're separated from the power that was granted to you for the crime of trying to do right by a world that doesn’t want you. But you_ **_have_ ** _to remember us. Remember everything, because the end is coming otherwise. The end to—"_

His chains clinked loudly, and he was ripped from his vision, submerged in grey once more and gasping. The pain from his wounds, briefly forgotten but not gone, flashed like lightning through him. It hurt, but pain could be useful; for now, it was keeping him awake enough to fulfill the command being given to him. After all, it was the only path he could take.

“Hfff...” He turned to spit blood on the floor but her eyes didn’t move from watching his. 

“You...You said from the beginning, right?”

She nodded.

“Alright then.” 

The sun was tauntingly bright through the windows of the train Izuku was riding on, gradually worsening his already lost and overwhelmed mindset. The green trees the train were rushing by, flickering in his vision so quickly that he reflexively looked at his arm to make sure he hadn't used his quirk. 

Taking a breath once, he assured himself the slightest movement didn't have a risk of shattering his arm like last—

“—Musutafu Station. This is Musutafu station. The next stop is...”

He picked up his bag, slinging it over his left shoulder and exiting the train.

It was easier now, being himself. Enduring the normal crush of bodies that always bottlenecked the subway had been a challenge. A year prior, his scrawny form would’ve been knocked aside and shouting like All Might fighting a rotting wooden door. Now, he hardly even noticed when dozens of people rushing to their jobs, families, and responsibilities bumped into him. 

Progress, however slight.

Looking around led to discovering the staircase to the hero living sector, or at least close to it. The streets weren't yet familiar, but Izuku was told his caretaker would be meeting him by this exit. A tap on his shoulder made him spin around immediately, a heavy punch at the ready until it clicked that the person before him matched the description he was given to look for.

"Well, Yagi didn't give you entirely terrible instincts. Now come on, you're wasting precious time for me to not get any sleep in." The longer-haired male yawned, already strolling towards the nearest corner and turning around it before Izuku finally began following. 

A few moments of silent following the man through the narrow and increasingly less crowded streets stretched out over seconds, and then into minutes. 

“We’re here.” 

A single wooden door painted red. Izuku looked around. Quiet. Unassuming. _Boring._ It made sense.

The man pulled a single key out of his pocket, the door unlocking easily as he stepped aside. Izuku went inside at the sweeping gesture of the man’s arm, clearly intending for him to go first. 

"I'm going to spare us both the time. Yagi has already paid me to keep you safe here indefinitely, and the less you know about the reasons _why_ , the more likely it is that attention will be focused on him. My name is Shouta Aizawa, and this is my agency apartment. You're going to be staying here, and I'll be guarding it during the day while you attend UA. That's everything important, so I won't be taking any questions. Now go upstairs. I'm going to show you your bedroom. You can fix it up yourself should you wish."

The room itself was... spartan, with no posters or personal touches. Even the futon mattress was bare, though there was a folded set of his sheets on top of a large shipping box. He glanced at the small postage label on the box.

_From Mom_. 

He bit down, a trickle of blood running down his lip before wiping it on his sleeve. Being here hurt and that wasn’t likely to stop soon but he couldn’t deny it. This was the right choice. Now, _and_ for the future. It had to be.

"The bathroom is right through that door. I'd suggest taking a shower and getting to sleep early. You can also eat if you need to. I'll be here to get you up to finalize your place at UA in the morning." Aizawa turned and walked down the stairs, the faint ‘click’ of the front door following shortly after. Aizawa was gone, and Izuku was finally alone. 

It took a few moments for it to sink in. This was his reality, now, and for the foreseeable future. Flashes of the gruesome wound in his mentor's side reminded him this was necessary. This was a conscious choice, not a punishment brought on by malice.

He went through his belongings, delicately lifting the laminated card before making his way downstairs to the modest kitchen. He glanced at the card, smiling: a recipe. Katsudon. 

Opening the fridge and withdrawing what he _hoped_ was pork, he turned the stove on and started following the directions: tenderize, season, marinate, dredge, and fry. The smell of pork and onions brought a smile to his face. Next was the rice, which didn't take long thanks to Aizawa’s rice cooker. The ‘ding’ of the rice cooker meant it was time to eat, and he served himself the katsudon that he had loved so much growing up.

It wasn't perfect, but certainly not bad for a first try. It was warm and comfortable. It reminded him enough of his former home that he finally relaxed. After washing his dishes and ensuring even the most minuscule of leftovers were safely tucked into the fridge, he decided to shower. It had been a strange day, but a good meal and a warm shower could do wonders. It was still early in the evening, but tomorrow would certainly be trying which meant he needed sleep.

It would be crucial to try and settle into a new routine here. He _hoped_ that a sense of consistency and normalcy would help him maintain focus on his goal. He also hoped that the nightmare plaguing him every night for a year _wouldn’t_ follow him to a new city and his new life, becoming part of his routine. He laughed. Life was _never_ that clean, especially not now.

  
  


He was imprisoned within a cell in a nine-sided room. He couldn’t see the eight other cells but he could feel somehow that they were empty. He was alone save for the one other constant of his dream. A jagged, ethereal light floated in the center of the room, crackling silently with arcs of green lightning yet casting no shadows. Only when his gaze strayed from the light would the silence break. 

_“Not yet.”_

Before long the shadow appeared as it always did, nearly choking the light out, making it dimmer and...angrier from its mere presence. The shadow extended, more of a tendril than a hand, and touched the light. The light cracked and degraded before fading to dust and ash, revealing the last thing he always saw before waking.

Izuku always went to bed by himself, but he never woke up from his prison alone. The broken, skeletal form of Toshinori Yagi always greeted the morning with him.

The next morning came all too soon. He was more disoriented and exhausted than usual, but at least he hadn’t woken up screaming; a marked improvement. _Progress_.

Still wracked with grogginess, he managed to put on the school uniform Aizawa had procured in advance of his arrival, and immediately headed downstairs while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. 

"You look like shit, and I'm sure you feel like it too. Not gonna bother with that hair, but you clearly need coffee. Call it an insomniac's intuition." Aizawa took a jar of coffee beans off the wall and scooped a generous amount into a grinder before brewing it. 

Izuku's green eyes widened as he sipped the cup, throwing any hesitation he would normally feel aside in favor of swallowing the rest of the coffee faster than his tongue could register the heat. "I-I'm sorry," he muttered after a few moments, delicately setting the cup back on the counter. 

"Don't worry about it. I _know_ I make good coffee." Aizawa, thankfully, seemed more bemused than insulted by the lack of manners in that nonverbal outburst. "Anything less and I'd be dead from not having energy to breathe. Now, do you have everything with you?" Izuku nodded.

"Good. Let’s go.” They exited the apartment, beginning what Izuku assumed would be an awkward, lecture filled walk to… somewhere.

“You'll be given a storage locker, and your costume design has to be submitted directly to the support department since Ketsubutsu is not in the need to know about why you're here. As such, they’ve refused us the right to get them directly. So _illogical._ " 

More was being muttered under his breath, but with the grey scarf covering half his face, Midoriya could no longer make any distinct words out. He settled for taking in small details about the neighborhood, the most prominent of which was the sheer number of cats that seemed content to make their way over to Aizawa as he passed. 

One especially determined tuxedo cat even kept pace with Izuku behind him, only stopping to wrap its tail around the ankle of his black pants and nuzzle its cheek to Aizawa’s other ankle. Aizawa spared it a brief pet behind the ears, and the cat rolled over, meowing loudly when it was abandoned in favor of the car door being unlocked and opened. He picked it up with practiced ease, somehow stuffing the cat into his scarf like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

"This is Morgana. He's very demanding of my attention. Say anything to the principal about him being with me, and I will show you how being _safe_ and _utterly miserable_ can _coexist_."

"I didn't see anything. Monochrome-blind." Izuku waved a hand in front of his face.

Aizawa cracked a moderately insane grin, flicking his head over to him. "How about that? We _might_ just get along. Hardly expected Yagi's chosen successor to be so damn _mouthy_. Get in, I’ll explain on the way."

  
  


During the car ride to UA, Aizawa had explained that UA had been… less than receptive to the idea of a transfer student this late in the year, let alone one that had been registered as quirkless for three quarters of his life. That said, he doubted anyone would reject a student recommended by All Might himself.

Still, Izuku felt excited and confident. UA was his dream school, the first step to becoming the hero he knew he was destined and determined to be. Compared to fighting villains and upholding the legacy of All Might, a meeting with a school principal was no big deal. Right?

  
  


Shit.

"So Mr. Midoriya, let me see if I understand your... _situation_ correctly. Your quirk grants you super strength—” The principal looked down at a few documents messily scattered on his desk before looking up at Izuku and sighing “—at the cost of _breaking your bones?_ And by some stroke of miserable luck, you're a late bloomer as well! So my esteemed faculty will have the uh… _privilege_ of making up twelve years of training just so you can meet our entry standards?” 

He let out an extended, heavy sigh. “In my long, prestigious career as an educator I have found that _honesty_ is the best policy, so allow me that courtesy, Mr. Midoriya and forgive my bluntness. You are going to be a waste of my medical and educational faculty’s time."

_Double shit._

The man leaned back and closed his eyes, emitting an exaggerated sigh at the ceiling, as if the first meeting of his morning had made him as tired as Aizawa seemed to be.

"...But given the nature of your… _recommendation_ I am willing to make an exception. Worst comes to worst, you'll be a quiet failure and we can shunt you into the General Education division. Let me be clear, Mr.Midoriya. _Fail any of your subjects, practical or otherwise; step a single toe out of line — that's where you'll end up_." Izuku gave a shaky nod, sneaking a glance at Aizawa who might as well have been comatose with how disinterested he appeared to be.

Three raps sounded from the closed office door. “Sir? Is now a good time?” The principal closed the folder with Izuku's documents. “Yes, yes. You may enter.” The door opened, revealing someone Izuku had assumed was a student until he saw the faculty badge around his neck.

It was impressive really, that someone existed who made Izuku feel tall at 5’6; the ‘man’ couldn’t have been taller than 4’. Toned muscles and a confident, beaming smile belied the man’s rather miniature stature. As far as quirks went, Izuku _had_ seen stranger than his, but that didn’t stop him from staring at the...grapes he had in place of his hair. 

"Ah, Mineta! Perfect timing. We were just finishing up this transfer. Would you mind showing these two to Ms. Fukukado's classroom before our discussion on how to handle the... _problem_ students in your capture techniques class?"

“Yes sir, Principal Mera!” The purple orbs atop the teacher's head bounced sharply as he nodded, and he spun on his heel. “Good to see you again, eh, Aizawa? Been a while, yeah?” Mineta flashed a wide smile at Aizawa. Aizawa flinching, albeit almost imperceptibly, caught Izuku’s attention but he had more important things to worry about.

He turned to Izuku, still smiling. “Nice to meet you, kid! I’m Minoru Mineta, UA’s Physical Heroics Training teacher but I also do special coaching on capture and restraint techniques like Principal Mera mentioned.” He extended a hand towards Izuku, his smile softening.

“Nice to meet you. I’ll be in your care.” Returning the handshake, Izuku barely caught the subtle way the smile shifted to be less... _arrogant_ when turned towards him. He returned a smile of his own, but filed away the feeling of something being _off._ Yet another problem to think about later. 

“Alright, let's get you to Ms. Fukukado’s class!”

Up one flight of stairs from the entrance. Almost to the end of the hall on the right. 2B. Easy enough to remember, he supposed.

“Here we are! Ms. Fukukado knows you’re coming so just head on in, I’ve got some equipment to set up but, welcome to UA!” 

Mineta walked up to Izuku’s side and cupped his hand to Izuku’s ear before whispering, “ _I know what the principal said but here’s a free tip from me, don’t go causing any trouble and you’ll do great here, kid!_ ” Stepping back, Mineta offered a final smile and thumbs up before wandering down the hall waving a single hand behind him as he went. Mineta seemed to mean well, but Izuku couldn’t quite stop the single shiver that ran through his spine as he entered the 2B classroom.

To Izuku’s surprise, he was _not_ the first one noticed or greeted by the teacher as he entered the classroom. Instead, Aizawa had the green haired woman pressed far too closely to him to be proper, both of her arms wrapping around his neck. 

"Bloom!!!"

Her cry was enough to mask the click of Izuku's phone taking a hasty picture of the embrace, centering Aizawa's subtly reddened face as best as he could before it vanished back into his jacket pocket. He didn't even bother to cover his mocking snicker behind his hand, prompting the older pro to sigh, lightly shoving her away and brushing his shirt off.

"I told you _not_ to call me that."

"How does ' _future husband'_ sound, then?" She beamed and feigned swooning at Aizawa who promptly exited the room without even blinking.

“Come find me when she’s done with you.”

“Awww, you’re no fun!” 

The chuckle Izuku failed to stifle as Aizawa left was quickly swallowed as the pouting woman turned to him.

"Stick in the mud, as ever! So! I’m your homeroom teacher, Emi Fukukado, and you must be Izuku Midoriya! Welcome to class 2B. As much as I _love_ a good joke — I have been told _zero_ leniency can be afforded to you, since the UA Heroics division is exclusive enough for you to have to work every minute to prove you belong here. Are we clear?"

He clenched his fist, putting his other hand over it to hide the small surge of red and green that danced over his skin. He bowed slightly. After all, feigning respect might prove useful in a place like UA.

"Crystal. Thank you for your time, Ms. Fukukado." 

“Great! Classes start tomorrow and you’ll be assigned your seat then! Now then! Where did Shouta get off to...” Ms. Fukukado skipped out of the classroom, no doubt to continue whatever lover’s quarrel she had with Aizawa. If it wasn’t for their faculty badges, Izuku would have sworn the teachers were more like kids than the students.

Izuku decided to wait outside the UA gates, partially to let the lover’s quarrel play out, but mostly to reflect on the minor disaster his first day at UA had been. UA was not at all how he dreamed it… A biased principal who wanted nothing more than to see him gone, and two teachers that seemed decidedly uninterested in anything other than teaching.

_That_ was the kind of ground he was on. On the run for the sake of his and his mother's lives because he now wielded the quirk of Japan’s greatest hero where before he had nothing... And _still_ the deck to fulfill his dream was stacked against him. He let out another sigh. It made sense, nothing worth doing was easy, but he didn’t have to like it.

  
  



End file.
